Work Text:
Asuma and Obito’s mid-day smoke breaks were a routine Kakashi had grown used to. He'd never thought much of cigarettes beforehand, but Asuma seemed to have picked up the habit pretty quickly over their previous school break, and Obito was always able to swipe a pack from his uncle’s stash for them to share.
Kakashi hated the smell, and couldn’t have imagined they tasted any better. He never quite understood the appeal of them, but he joined nonetheless.
Mostly for the camaraderie; partially for how good Obito looked while smoking. All relaxed and carefree, not worried about getting caught sneaking nicotine on campus. Had this whole “bad boy” image working for him, despite how sweet his smile was.
Okay. Maybe Kakashi did kind of understand the appeal.
Asuma asked once if he wanted to try it. Pointed out how he always snuck away with them but never actually took part in their delinquency, as Gai called it.
Obito scrunched his nose, "I don't think you’ll like it.”
It wasn't said in a condescending way, moreso in a gentle suggestion. A redirect with Kakashi’s best interest in mind. A state of fact, considering how well he knew Kakashi.
But Asuma, ever the devil on his shoulder, pushed him on. “Just one won't hurt!”
Kakashi considered it, and figured he should at least try it once in his life. Might as well do it when he had the chance and was surrounded by more experienced friends.
Obito’s lips ticked down, not in disappointment, but in expectance. Waiting for the downfall. He shrugged with faux-nonchalance and beckoned Kakashi closer.
There was something surprisingly intimate in the way Obito held his own half-charred cigarette to Kakashi’s lips.
He had watched Asuma and Obito pass along plenty of them over the past few months, unacknowledged “indirect kisses” and all between the two. But it was never anything to awkwardly second guess – just two friends sharing a smoke like second nature.
The way Obito offered it to Kakashi, though…
They were so close, Kakashi could practically feel Obito’s breath fan across his forehead. His lips just barely brushed Obito’s fingers as he held the cigarette. He wondered why Obito wouldn't just let him hold it himself. It was a bit embarrassing to have Asuma watch this interaction—
Any distracting thoughts about the other two beside him flew out the window in a millisecond as he was knocked over with a wave of nausea almost instantly.
The taste was one he would never forget. It felt like burnt oil sat on his tongue and thick smoke lingered uncomfortably tight in his lungs for hours to follow. His chest ached and his throat was raw and dry from how much he coughed, and his voice was embarrassingly hoarse as a result.
He needed to puke. Felt like it was the only way to get the bitter taste out of his mouth and justify the angry, frustrated tears that formed in his eyes.
God, it was humiliating.
He could barely register Obito angrily snapping at Asuma’s teasing laughter. Spews of condescending jabs toward Kakashi were quickly followed by definitely-not-empty-threats toward Asuma.
Kakashi felt Obito’s hands grip onto his shoulders as he lurched over a nearby trash can, cementing him and comforting him all the same. Obito was patient and spoke gently as Kakashi vowed to never, ever, ever smoke again.
⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡⋆˚꩜｡
That vow was broken about four years later, when Kakashi was in his first year of college and lounging around Obito’s apartment like he lived there himself. He may as well have at that point.
Daily cigarettes were now followed by weekend joints. Something to “feel more relaxed” at the end of Obito’s busy weeks, juggling classes and work back-to-back.
Weed had a different scent than the nicotine he’d grown used to over time, and Kakashi didn't like it any better. He didn't entirely hate how his brain felt tingly after inhaling Obito's secondhand smoke, though.
He laid out on the couch, legs propped against Obito's lap, barely paying attention to whatever animated show was playing on the television.
He had more important things to focus on; like Obito’s side profile as he took another slow drag. His hair was much shorter now, but still long enough for the ends of his curls to wrap around his ears. The lighter patches of skin developed and scattered across his neck over the years, and tucked under the collar of his sweater. Stubble littered his chin, unkempt and rugged – Kakashi would've joked about it if he wasn't so (deniably) enamored.
Obito’s eyes were heavy, something Kakashi has grown accustomed to at this point. The result of exhaustion mixed with a steadily rising high.
He suddenly flicked them toward Kakashi, and Kakashi would've been embarrassed to be caught staring if his mind wasn't already drifting away, too.
Obito lazily brushed his knuckles over Kakashi’s shin, as if trying to comfort him before he even knew something was wrong.
They’d grown… closer over the years. More open to innocent touch, less restraint to hide their needs for physical contact. It wasn't something they ever addressed. Not upfront, at least. It just happened one day, and they continued to tiptoe on that edge of something and something more.
(He silently wonders if that horrid cigarette experience in high school was the unspoken turning point.)
Many things had naturally developed over the duration of their relationship as somethings. And Kakashi could easily say his favorite change was how soft Obito’s voice became when they were alone together.
“You okay?” Obito barely spoke above a whisper; words nearly lost in the smoke that billowed around him.
Kakashi took a moment to think before he spoke. He jutted his chin toward the joint, “Can I try?”
Obito’s lips turned down in that stupidly cute little pout he does when contemplating something serious.
“You really want to?”
Kakashi nodded, “Wanna see what it feels like.”
Obito’s hand planted itself on Kakashi’s knee, giving it a small squeeze. “You hurt yourself last time you tried to smoke something.” His voice lilted up to break the tension with a bit of humor, but Kakashi could tell he was more worried about his safety than making fun of an unfortunate event at his expense.
Kakashi lightly dug his knee into Obito’s stomach, a lazy grin growing. "I'm a big kid now, I think I can handle it.”
His response pulled a small laugh from Obito. The one he loved more than anything, and would never get tired of hearing.
“I really don't know if you can, baby,” Obito’s words spilled out in a faux-mocking tone, as they always did when he used that name toward Kakashi.
He wanted to hear Obito call him that for real. Just once. He craved it.
Kakashi sat up, his legs still resting over Obito’s, but leaning in closer. The biggest change on Kakashi’s end over the years had been his inability to give Obito any type of personal space. He lived inside Obito’s bubble, and didn't really care if it looked clingy from an outsider’s perspective. Obito never once seemed annoyed by the close proximity – and Kakashi would soon find out he never would be.
“I just wanna know what it's like to really get high. The secondhand shit is cool or whatever, but I wanna feel it.”
Obito's hand moved from Kakashi's knee to the nape of his neck, twisting the short locks of hair that fell there. It was another small action that had become instinctive; ruffling Kakashi’s hair as if to remind himself he’s there. They're both there.
Obito’s eyes shifted between the burning joint and the entirety of Kakashi’s face.
His nose, his eyes, the joint, his hair – his hand in his hair – the silver hoop in his ear, the joint, his eyes again, his lips, the joint—
His lips again, the joint, his lips, the joint—
“Obi?”
Kakashi seemed to have snapped him out of whatever weird internal battle he was having. Maybe he was more stoned that Kakashi originally thought—
“We could shotgun it,” Obito’s cheeks seemed to burn up before he could even finish rushing out his suggestion, “won't burn you as much as it did last time.”
Kakashi didn't know what shotgunning was in terms of smoking. He imagined shotgunning beers with his friends, but didn't know how that would correlate to this. And yet, if there was one person he trusted more than anyone else, including himself, it was Obito.
In his (already slightly dazed) mind, that was enough.
“Yeah, okay. How do we do that?” Kakashi leaned his head back a bit into Obito’s palm, still resting on the back of his head.
Obito’s grip tightened ever so slightly in anticipation. He took another solo drag as if to calm himself down, or silently hype himself up, or both. And Kakashi waited patiently for instruction.
His voice was impossibly faint now that his typical Kakashi-influenced softness mixed with his nerves. “I take the hit for you and you’ll inhale the smoke I blow out. It’ll still burn but it won't be as harsh.”
Kakashi blinked as he slowly processed the words. It didn't seem like that big of a deal. He had been inhaling Obito's smoke almost every day for the past several years, cigarettes and joints alike. He didn't quite see how this would make much of a difference, but if Obito says it'll work…
“Okay,” he leaned further into Obito’s touch, “yeah, let's try it.”
Obito’s grip tightened again, “Yeah?” he sounded surprised.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?” It was almost disbelief.
“I’m positive,” Kakashi couldn't help the smile that made its way to his lips, and he loved how Obito mirrored it.
“Okay,” Obito nodded lightly, finally, “Tell me to back off whenever you want, yeah? Just breathe in whatever feels comfortable, don't overdo it, baby.”
That was the first time that name didn't have any sort of humor masking it.
Obito took a long drag and gently pulled Kakashi’s face closer to his. He barely had time to process the movements before they were mere centimeters apart.
They were impossibly close, closer than they'd ever been before. Obito’s nose gently bumped against his cheekbone before he shifted so their lips were nearly brushing. Their eyes stayed locked, and Kakashi had never seen that look in Obito’s before.
A contradictory mix of fear and confidence and love and hunger.
Kakashi swore he was hallucinating the whole thing.
He only remembered to breathe when he felt Obito blow the smoke into his mouth.
It felt different than the cigarette smoke from years ago. Still bitter and burnt and sticky, but now cut with an earthiness that was easier to swallow, and a sweetness that came from Obito himself.
He was forced to break their staring contest once he felt his lungs constrict with pressure, and he shifted away from Obito to avoid coughing in his face.
His throat burned, yes, but not as badly as it had before. His coughing fit wasn't as severe, but it was still uncomfortable, though he found solace in the familiar weight of Obito’s hand on his shoulder throughout the entirety of it. He was able to calm himself down after a few sips of water while minimal tears spilled.
Honestly, he couldn't tell if his reaction was from the smoke inhalation or from the intimacy of whatever he and Obito just did.
That cigarette was nothing compared to this.
He half expected Obito to be annoyed by the moment ruined from Kakashi's rookie hacking, but when Kakashi turned back to him, he was holding that same expression from moments ago.
“Are you alright?” His voice was gentle as ever, one heavy hand rested on Kakashi’s shoulder and the other gently carding through his hair, and the joint long forgotten, left to burn out in the ashtray rested beside them.
Kakashi nodded silently, unsure of where to settle his gaze. He moved back and forth between Obito’s own confusing eyes and the plush lips that he almost felt.
“‘Kashi…” Obito’s voice rasped with an unspoken plea.
Kakashi leaned in, once again taking up Obito’s personal space, but still keeping enough distance for the other to back away if he truly wanted to.
Kakashi was content staying there, on that ledge that divided something and something else. He was alright with their undefined bond and lingering touches and shared space. He was completely fine with just silently sitting beside Obito as he took his daily smoke breaks and got a little too high every weekend.
So if Obito wanted to retreat – to break this trance he had Kakashi trapped in – Kakashi would be okay with it.
He didn't, though. Rather, he twisted his finger through Kakashi’s hair and pulled him in further.
Lips on lips, and the lingering taste of smoke.
And Kakashi understood why people became addicted.